


The Devil's Bride

by HattoriPornzo



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Demons, Domestic Fluff, Eventual Smut, F/M, HEA, Human/Monster Romance, Kylo doesn't understand human stuff, Kylo is literally satan, Religious Conflict, Shy Kylo Ren, Soft Kylo Ren, Stalking, Virgin Kylo Ren, but it's fine, wage slave Rey, what do you have? A KNIFE
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:01:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22823749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HattoriPornzo/pseuds/HattoriPornzo
Summary: Satan is standing in Rey's living room. He makes a really good cup of tea.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 25
Kudos: 100





	The Devil's Bride

**Author's Note:**

> what am I doing

It was an oppressively hot, yet cloudy summer day in London. 

Rey had been weaving through stalls and streets in Camden Market for nearly three hours. She wandered into shops. She stopped to have Chinese food by the river. And the whole time, she felt his eyes on her. She always did. For months now, he’d been following her. She’d sense him on her way to class or when she jogged down to the bakery where she'd sometimes treat herself in the mornings. She’d even see him from the corners of her eyes once in awhile. Or on a rare occasion, he’d bump into her on the tube and quickly dart away, turning up the collar of his coat. A chill ran up her spine at the thought of it and she had to stop herself from quickening her pace, trying her best to look normal.

As frightening as it was, there was something about his presence that was oddly familiar, like an old scent from childhood one could never quite place. She wasn’t sure when exactly he began following her. He seemed to invade her senses slowly, without her even noticing. It was like he wasn't there and then suddenly, she’d find herself catching a glimpse of him around the corner of a shelf in a bookstore or right behind her when she was crossing the street. He was tall. Exceptionally so. And he dressed in all black like some Byronic woe-is-me vampire lord. He had a striking profile and full lips, although she never quite got to see his face straight on. Once, when she had gotten back to her flat late from the gym, she swore she saw him standing in the park across the way, watching her with _yellow_ eyes. But he was gone quicker than she could be sure.

He had rarely ever done anything to draw attention to himself, per se. But there were moments when she’d feel this heat on the back of her neck. The tiny hairs on her arms would stand at attention and it’d feel as though the air was ringing. It started off slow. At first, she’d just get this faint impression of being watched. But as her glimpses of him grew more frequent, so too did the pressing sixth sense that he was always around, always watching.

Eventually, it escalated. She was at a pub one night when a very drunk young man wandered away from his friend’s stag party and cornered her with unsavory intentions. She managed to escape his grasp but when she looked over her shoulder, _he_ was there with his fist wrapped around the fabric of the shorter man’s shirt, pinning him against a wall. She couldn’t hear what he was saying but his mouth was opened wide as he seethed with anger. His teeth were unnaturally sharp. She fled.

Then there was the day she went on her morning jog and forgot her wallet at home. She'd reached her favorite bakery and waited in line, only to realize she didn’t have a single pound on her. To her shock, the boy at the counter informed her that someone had already ordered and paid for her usual- English Breakfast tea with milk and an apricot tart. She looked down where her food had been set aside next to the register, her name written in black sharpie on the to-go cup. Her heart sank down into her stomach as she shook her head, backing away from the counter until she turned and bolted straight out the doors.

It couldn’t go on like this.

So now, Rey was playing the waiting game. She’d worn a thin, white dress today, and wedges as opposed to her normally sensible flats. A picture of vulnerable innocence. Above her, the sky cracked and lightning momentarily painted the sky with white light. Summer humidity clung in the air so thick that it was practically tangible and she could feel stray strands of hair sticking to the light sheen of sweat on her forehead. Nervously, she wiped her damp hands down the sides of her dress.

The sun had started to set. Vendors were packing up their shops. It would be night soon and the promise of a nasty thunderstorm loomed overhead. She hadn’t brought a coat or an umbrella, unusual since she was normally the type to be prepared. But there was only one thing she really needed, and she was hyper aware of its faint outline pressing through her bag against her waist.

She tottered down cobblestone streets in her heels, adjusting the canvas shopping bag on her shoulder. Streetlamps flickered on. She turned down a narrow alleyway and just then, the sky opened and rain splattered against the still sun-heated streets noisily, darkening the cobblestones with each fat drop until they were mirror slick. 

She knew he was there when she felt a familiar tremor run up her spine. It had to be now. Drawing her enormous kitchen knife from her cheerily colored tote bag, she spun on her heel and pointed it at the startled man who now stood in front of her, an umbrella outstretched towards her in his hand.

“Jesus Christ, what the _fuck_ ?” he sputtered backing up, “Are you trying to kill someone?” 

He had an American accent. Weird.

“That’s what happens when you’re being _stalked_ by a monster,” Rey hissed, holding the knife with both hands, adrenaline coursing through her veins as the self defense skills she harnessed over a lifetime of survival rushed to the forefront of her mind.

The dark haired man stilled, his eyes widening. She could see his face more clearly now; a scar bisected one of his cheeks, reaching across to skim over the opposite brow. It was oddly striking.

“What makes you think I’m a monster?” he asked, his shoulders slumping as if he were trying to shrink down to a less intimidating size. Rey blinked as she took in his appearance. His wet hair stuck to his face, revealing satellite dish ears that only brought attention to his other large features. Moles dotted his pale white skin- little imperfections that were too human, that didn’t fit with the image she’d fleshed out in her head of what he’d look like up close. He looked normal enough now and for a brief second, she almost thought she’d imagined everything up until this point.

But his eyes- she saw how they swept down the front of her soaked white dress. She steeled her resolve.

“Oh, I don’t know. Sometimes your eyes are yellow. Pretty sure you have fangs. You’re staring at me like I’m a snack,” she retorted. His face flushed and he ran a hand through his now sopping wet hair, pursing his lips in frustration as though he were thinking. 

She was ready to snap at him again when he fixed her with a focused stare and she watched, frozen to the spot as his eyes burned bright, the color of flames replacing dark brown depths.

“So it’s true,” she rasped, still grasping the knife tightly in her hands, “You’re a monster.”

“Yes, I am.”

He waved his hand and the raindrops stopped in their myriad paths around them, going still in the air. Before she had could react, it was as if the world shifted and turned and suddenly, they were engulfed in inky darkness. She flung her gaze around the pitch black that surrounded them, dread making her stomach knot.

“What is this? Where am I?” she demanded frantically, only faintly realizing that they were completely dry and that her knife had disappeared.

“You’re my guest,” his rich voice rang through the emptiness, velvet in stereo. She shook her head in disbelief.

“What do you want with me?” She willed herself not to tremble as she backed away from him slowly, a futile move propelled by instinct. His expression seemed to soften and his lips parted as he searched for his words. Strange behavior for a monster, she thought.

“That mark,” he murmured, pointing to the faint, tawny colored birthmark on her upper arm, “It belongs to me.”

Rey looked down to where he was pointing. People had always thought her birthmark unusual. To her, it looked like two hands reaching for each other. In all honestly, she hadn’t thought much of it beyond that. Hazel eyes flicked up to the hunching figure of the giant in front of her, her confusion evident on her face.

“It _belongs_ to you? What, is this your way of saying you’re going to cut my arm off or something? Fuck, you're going to eat my arm off or some sick shit like that-” she gasped, thinking of every horror story she’d ever read that ended in gory agony.

“ _What_?” he sputtered, holding up his hands in a display of confused submission. “No! I'm not- I don't want to eat your arm, holy shit.”

“Okay, so…so what, then?” she huffed, crossing her arms and shifting uneasily. He flushed and mirrored her body language and it dawned on her that he was actually _nervous_. The massive man squared his shoulders and set his full mouth in a frown, as though he were trying to look authoritative.

“You’re my betrothed,” he said at last, choosing the words cautiously.

“Your _what_?” she laughed before she could stop herself. He pursed his lips angrily and paced towards her, looming in her space. His hands clenched tightly at his sides.

“This mark,” he said, grabbing her upper arm, “it’s proof that you’re meant to be mine. My destined mate.” Her eyebrows came together as she looked up at him with wide eyes, lips parting in disbelief.

“I’m sorry- you’re saying that this _birthmark_ means I have to marry you? That you own me now or something?” she blustered, heat rising to her cheeks in anger.

“No- what- that’s not what I meant,” he floundered, his grip on her arm loosening in his confusion as he trailed off pathetically, unsure of himself.

“So, if I asked you to take me home right this second, you would?” she ventured, quirking an eyebrow at him. She saw him work his jaw and then his eyes met hers. Instead of the flashing yellow she’d glimpsed before, she couldn’t help but notice from this close that they were warm, honeyed shades of brown, frustratingly beautiful.

“I would do anything for you,” he said lowly, and the timber of his voice made her believe it, her mouth falling open a little in shock as heat bloomed in her cheeks. Well, that- that was just unfair…

“Then take me home,” she murmured, perturbed by her latest assessment of him. 

The darkness shifted and shook and then suddenly receded. Rey blinked in awe when she realized they were now standing in the living room of her flat, moving quickly to the window to look out at the street as if to confirm she really was home. Through the rain splattered glass, she took in the familiar sights, finally rendered speechless. Meanwhile, the monster- _man?_ \- who had brought her there stood awkwardly behind her, seeming uncomfortably large and unsure of what to do with himself in the small apartment.

“Who are you?” she asked once she’d regained the ability to speak, slowly turning to face him. He looked at her with a proud and fiery expression then, his eyes flashing in the dim light of her living room. He seemed to rise to his full height, holding his head high.

“I am Kylo Ren, prince of Hell.”

Rey blinked at him once. And then sputtered out an incredulous laugh.

“What?” she guffawed nervously, “Hell- hell isn’t real.” Her head swam at the sheer nonsense of it all. She had been an atheist since she was old enough to be capable of critical thought. She could still remember being dragged to church when she was a child at the group home, the velvet painting of Jesus covered in blood that hung in front of the first pew both traumatizing her and cementing her belief that everyone around her was completely bonkers.

“It’s real,” he assured her with an offended scoff, “I assure you. I'm quite literally the devil.”

“Bullshit,” she breathed, although her voice wavered. Kylo’s eyebrows drew together as he stared at her in astonishment.

“So you’ll accept me being a monster, watch me warp reality around you, and that’s believable to you but _theology_ is where you draw the line?”

She gave him a look that indicated she was not amused, crossing her arms once more. 

"I don't know, I thought you were going to say that you were a vampire or a wizard- I didn't think you were going to say you were Satan!" she groused.

"Well, sorry I'm not Harry Potter," he grunted. A surprised laugh bubbled out of her throat before she realized it and she had to put a hand to her head for a moment as she tried to digest what he'd just told her. Quietly, she appraised his face again. His eyes really were warm. His nose was slightly crooked and his lips were the kind she’d see models pursing in magazine ads. The effect really wasn’t scary. Actually, all together, she had to admit it was almost…charming. He was strangely handsome.

“Well you don’t look _demonic_ ,” she insisted softly, casting her gaze to the floor and hoping he couldn’t hear her thoughts or some shit. He was silent for a beat as though he was just as taken aback as she was by all this, and when she looked up again, conflict was written all over his face.

“I have…another form,” he responded cryptically. She raised her eyebrows expectantly.

“Can I see-”

“ _No_ ,” he growled in a way that left no room for discussion. She studied him with open bewilderment long enough for him to begin to feel uncomfortable, though he clearly tried not to show it.

“So…if you’re not here to force me into marriage and you don’t want to rip off my arm, eat me, whatever…why have you been following me?” she questioned, eyeing him suspiciously. He paused and looked like he was considering his words carefully as his eyes flit over her face.

“To protect you,” he answered at last with a nod. 

“Protect me from _what_?” she replied, unnerved by the implication that she required supernatural protection from something.

“From forgetting your umbrella,” he sighed petulantly.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“Wait- _really_?” Her eyes narrowed skeptically. “All the following me around, creeping around corners- that’s just you, what, like, looking out for me?”

She saw his throat bob as he averted his eyes from her and began to study the ugly popcorn ceiling above them. Her eyebrows rose as she realized the guy really couldn’t hide anything. His face was too expressive.

“I-,” he cut himself off with a frustrated sounding sigh, pushing his hand though his hair. “I bought your tea, you know,” he mumbled, as if that was all it took to explain himself.

Rey stood, caught off guard by this towering man- _the devil_ \- who looked suddenly younger than she’d initially thought and almost…shy.

“You did,” she replied softly, “Thank you.”

He nodded and finally met her eyes.

“So…now what?” she asked with some trepidation, "Assuming you're not dragging me to hell."

“I hadn’t exactly planned on you brandishing a knife in my face,” he shrugged with a frown. “But you know I’m here now. And I can’t leave you, so…so if it’s okay, I’ll just- just be here.”

He saw her eyebrows draw together in concern and quickly added, “I won’t be a bother- I’ll just- anything you need, Rey- I promise I’ll do it for you.”

Rey swallowed as she let the implications of his words sink in.

“Anything?” she heard herself ask. She couldn't help but think about the caretaker who had neglected her in childhood, about the parents who’d abandoned her in favor of drugs and drink. The long familiar old ache in her heart made itself known as she thought of all the people who’d caused her to suffer- and for a brief moment, she thought of how they might be caused to suffer in return. It was sobering, to say the least.

“Anything,” he swore to her in his deep timbre, his eyes glinting with a golden hue. She could practically feel the bass of his voice reverberating in her chest and let her eyes slide shut, savoring the soothing tone. 

She licked her lips and as they parted ever so slightly, he watched, entranced, brimming with anticipation for her command, clinging eagerly to her every word.

“Could you make some tea?” she rasped, pressing a hand to the base of her throat

He stared.

“Tea?” he asked, not sure he’d heard her right. She shrugged lamely.

“Um, yes. Please. I’m a little cold from the rain,” she explained, tucking her hands under her arms although she’d been completely dry for awhile now, thanks to…whatever Kylo had done.

He raked his fingers through his hair as he turned around in place inelegantly before heading to her tiny galley kitchen and pulling a mug from one of her cabinets. She watched the bizarre scene play out before her as he selected her pink polka dotted cat mug and brought it to her. As he held it out to her, she watched, a little dumbstruck as the mug began to fill with milky tea before her eyes. She took the steaming cup from him with a murmured _thank you_ and stumbled over to her worn old oatmeal colored charity shop sofa, lowering herself down slowly.

She brought the tea to her mouth and blew on it in a sort of absentminded way as Kylo, _Ren, was it?_ , apparent prince of capital H, Hell, shuffled between her clutter covered coffee table and sat on the opposite side of the couch, tucking his too-long limbs in awkwardly while trying to maintain a respectable distance from her.

She hesitantly swallowed her tea and the hot liquid soothed her tense throat. Nodding towards him, she raised her mug a little.

“It’s good.”


End file.
